There is nothing worse than pulling out last summer's jeans, putting them on, trying to zip them up and failing miserably. Well actually, there is. There is running like a madwoman while training for a 5K, taking prima barre classes like I I'm starring in a Black Swan re-make, and eating like I'm one of Gwyneth Paltrow's kids...and still not losing any weight. Not. A. Pound. Not. One. That sucks so bad I can't even talk about it. I mean really, Scale? You couldn't give me at just one pound for all the effort I have put in? Bitch.
I try to focus on the positive. I am up to working out at least 4, sometimes 5 days a week. A big jump from the measly 2 to 3 I was doing. I'm not a couch potato anymore. A lazy ass, yes but none of the bone numbing fatigue I fought for so long. I have increased my running milage by a mile and a half. Even my daughter (the original Miss Prima Ballerina herself) is impressed with my turnout. So I have made progess, measurable progress, just not on the scale.
Why should I care? Shouldn't the progress I've made be enough? Sadly, no. I wish it was, espcially since I have a 10 year old daughter who I want to be proud of and accepting of her body. I don't want her to look in the mirror and be disguted the way I am. Why is it that my measure of success is determined by the scale and all the other accomplishments pale in comparison?
At this point I can honestly say that I could go out and run that 5k at an elite pace and my reaction would be, "yeah, but I'm so dang fat!" and that is so wrong on so many levels. For all the talk of women's bodies are beautiful, I'm still stuck on a bloody scale and it is time to get off. What keeps me glued to that scale? I don't know.
At this point I am re-assessing. I don't want to give up on the workouts that I love and I'm afraid that I'm going to have to trade them in on something more intense (and that I HATE) in order to get that dang scale to budge.
I have met with my nutritionist to go over my diet and I'm eating way to many carbs which is wreaking havoc with my blood sugar. I also noticed one to many "just one bite." Those one bites sure add up. I'm tightening up my diet in hopes of tightening up my belt.
I know that each mile I run, each healthy morsal of food I give my body does wonderful things for my health and that is what I tell myself when I run. When I run I am off the scale comepletly. It doesn't matter who big my thighs are, it only matters that they are strong, and healthy and keep me going, and I actually give thanks to them as I'm running. No wonder I keep running. It keeps me off the scale. Hey, whatever works.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
To the Light
"Do not go gentle into that good night..JPG)
Rage, rage against the dying of the light"
-Dylan Thomas
My heart hurts for what happened in Boston. Do we really live in a world where we cannot go out for a run without the risk of being blown to bits? I'm mean, really!
I'm a runner. I'm not a marathon runner, nor will I ever be, and that is okay with me. I'm content to just get out there and run my granny-pace 5K because running makes me run to the light when sitting at home on the couch whining keeps me in darkness. So I run. I run to focus on the light and also to keep from running away. I run to prove to myself (and my cardiologist) that I am a strong person
- that I'm healed, healthy and whole.
I'm also a social worker in a level one trauma center. Every day I see people whose lives have "blown up." I'm there when people's lives change in an instant. I have sat with families as they have cried and asked why their loved one was now gone. I have walked the floor with a hurt baby in my arms just like I did when my own kids where babies. I have assured an assault victim that nobody has the right to hurt her. I have comforted a young mother who miscarried and tried to convince here it wasn't her fault. I've promised car accident victims that I would find their mom for them and then held their hand until she got there.
It doesn't sound like much does it? I know it doesn't, and a lot of the time I feel helpless and powerless and want to rage at the injustice of it all. I question this world which seems to have gone absolutely crazy, and I question my abilities as a social worker because I can't fix 99% of the things I'm asked to deal with, but then again the most common compliment I get is not, "you fixed everything for me" but rather "you were so nice! Thank you for being so nice." I have come to realize that being nice, holding a hand, just listening, are my ways of raging against the darkness. They are just moments, but they add up, and if somebody who, in the midst of tragedy, can experience kindness, then maybe I'm not so powerless after all.
I can't even imagine the powerlessness and helplessness the people of Boston are feeling right now, but I look at the pictures of people running TOWARD the blast to help others, runners who continued running, after they had completed the marathon, to the hospital to give blood, people who opened their homes and provided food, shelter and kindness to others, and it gives me hope. I believe that is our true nature as human beings, what we were created to do for each other. I'm also saddened that it takes a bomb going off to reveal it. Maybe we don't reveal that part of ourselves because, like me in my trauma center, we feel like it isn't enough. I'm here to tell you, it is. Just being kind, being nice, holding a hand, listening, makes a huge impact!
Just stop and think what the world would be like if we sent out the love, prayers, hope and kindness we are sending to Boston right know, to the world every single day. That is how we rage against the darkness, that is how we spread light, that is how we refuse to go gentle into that good night.
.JPG)
Rage, rage against the dying of the light"
-Dylan Thomas
My heart hurts for what happened in Boston. Do we really live in a world where we cannot go out for a run without the risk of being blown to bits? I'm mean, really!
I'm a runner. I'm not a marathon runner, nor will I ever be, and that is okay with me. I'm content to just get out there and run my granny-pace 5K because running makes me run to the light when sitting at home on the couch whining keeps me in darkness. So I run. I run to focus on the light and also to keep from running away. I run to prove to myself (and my cardiologist) that I am a strong person
- that I'm healed, healthy and whole.
I'm also a social worker in a level one trauma center. Every day I see people whose lives have "blown up." I'm there when people's lives change in an instant. I have sat with families as they have cried and asked why their loved one was now gone. I have walked the floor with a hurt baby in my arms just like I did when my own kids where babies. I have assured an assault victim that nobody has the right to hurt her. I have comforted a young mother who miscarried and tried to convince here it wasn't her fault. I've promised car accident victims that I would find their mom for them and then held their hand until she got there.
It doesn't sound like much does it? I know it doesn't, and a lot of the time I feel helpless and powerless and want to rage at the injustice of it all. I question this world which seems to have gone absolutely crazy, and I question my abilities as a social worker because I can't fix 99% of the things I'm asked to deal with, but then again the most common compliment I get is not, "you fixed everything for me" but rather "you were so nice! Thank you for being so nice." I have come to realize that being nice, holding a hand, just listening, are my ways of raging against the darkness. They are just moments, but they add up, and if somebody who, in the midst of tragedy, can experience kindness, then maybe I'm not so powerless after all.
I can't even imagine the powerlessness and helplessness the people of Boston are feeling right now, but I look at the pictures of people running TOWARD the blast to help others, runners who continued running, after they had completed the marathon, to the hospital to give blood, people who opened their homes and provided food, shelter and kindness to others, and it gives me hope. I believe that is our true nature as human beings, what we were created to do for each other. I'm also saddened that it takes a bomb going off to reveal it. Maybe we don't reveal that part of ourselves because, like me in my trauma center, we feel like it isn't enough. I'm here to tell you, it is. Just being kind, being nice, holding a hand, listening, makes a huge impact!
Just stop and think what the world would be like if we sent out the love, prayers, hope and kindness we are sending to Boston right know, to the world every single day. That is how we rage against the darkness, that is how we spread light, that is how we refuse to go gentle into that good night.
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